


The Fault in Our Stars

by orphan_account



Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: History, Mercenaries, tf2
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-18
Updated: 2014-05-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 12:55:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1649384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since the beginning of time, man has recorded its history. Today, in the year 1968, we bring you back to different years, in different parts of the world, to see what the RED mercenaries of Mann Co. did and were like before their brutal, murderous jobs they so love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Teufort, 1968: An Introduction to Mann Co.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first TF2-history fic, so I apologize if anything is a bit... off, as these are also my OCs, though I try to keep things as canon as possible.

Teufort wasn't a particularly pleasant place to be in. Heck, it was a downright terrible place to be, especially when there were millions of other places you could have been in like a fancy restaurant, a luxury swimming pool or some rundown motel that served terrible coffee with a hooker you called up. Downtown Teufort was bad, uptown Teufort was also bad, and the outskirts were the worst. Namely because the outskirts, along with a lot of other secluded places in the world, belonged to Mann Co. And what did Mann Co. do with these places? They let mercenaries fight over it.

Naturally these mercenaries wouldn't even have been there in the first place, if the idiot Mann brothers Redmond and Blutarch had never convinced their father to buy the giant gravel pits. When Zepheniah died, he left his money to his maidservant, and the company to his aide Barnabus Hale, and nothing but the useless land went to the two brothers.  Being the selfish morons they were they both wanted the land for themselves, and since they were old and frail, they hired a bunch of mercenaries to fight for it. By that point they should have been dead, but Blutarch had gotten Radigan Conagher to build him a life-extending machine. Elizabeth, presumably the second, convinced him to build the same machine for Redmond, and for whatever reason no one knows. 

So with both of them still alive, they continued to fight. Mercenaries grew old and died or moved on from the war, and they went through their men pretty quickly. Their initial bunch of mercenaries were okay, a bit demented but they were okay. The current crop of mercs don't really act like the originals either. They're probably a lot more sane and insane in their own odd ways.

It's a wonder the buildings these mercs fight in haven't been utterly destroyed. Everything about Mann Co. is a mystery. Exactly what the mercs did, what was the point of Mann Co., why they had been fighting for so long. People would have approached the mercs if they saw them around, but they never left Mann Co. territory, and when they did, it was only back home for a short period of time.

Being the clever people we are, we managed to get their records. Even better, we got video footage straight from Admin's records of what the mercs were like before they came to Mann Co.

Ladies and gentlemen, without any further ado, let's go back to 1962, Boston.


	2. Boston, 1962: Eight boys and one stressed mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter we meet the Scout, aged 17, and his seven other rowdy brothers.
> 
> Name: Lionel Drake  
> Location: Boston, Massachussetts  
> Year: 1962

Being a mother of eight rowdy boys in Boston wasn't easy. Especially in the shadier corner of town they lived in, her boys always got into fights. It used to be a shocker whenever her boys came back from school or from playing ball, all scuffed up, dirty and even bleeding sometimes, but as time passed, it became a weekly, and then almost daily occurrence that she decided to teach her boys how to clean themselves up so she wouldn't have to do it herself. Despite being rowdy, they were fairly well disciplined for boys like them, and hardly tracked any dirt into the house upon returning. She was proud of herself for bringing hem up like that, especially since their father wasn't around anymore.

Jamie Elizabeth Fanning, divorced wife, mother of eight boys, from oldest to youngest, Aiden, Jedrek, Desmond, Caine, Cody, Jake, Alex and Lionel. It was definitely a great feat that she brought majority of them up without a father to support them as well, but she figured they were probably better off without him anyway. She hadn't thrown out any pictures of him and instead kept them where they were, but she never spoke about him. Not even when her sons asked.

"He's a jerkbag," Caine snorted, the fourth brother lazily milling around on the couch as Jake tried to push him off. Between him and Lionel, the youngest, there was a thirteen year difference, but that didn't stop all eight of them from being close. They were rowdy and very stubborn, but all eight of them shared a similar love for baseball, getting into fights and proving their manliness. Aiden, Jedrek and Desmond had moved out of the house with their wives already, leaving only five of them.

"Everyone's a jerkbag to you, Caine," Jake retorted. He sat up, staring around the house. There wasn't anything to do, so he suggested the one thing they always did. "Anyone wanna go play ball?" Silence ensued, but it was quickly broken by the four other brothers mumbling agreement and getting up to get their things. Each of them had a bat to himself, and Lionel was most proud of his. It was purely steel, it was fairly light to carry but hard to hit and felt really good to swing. It had also been used to club people before, but no one but the guys he fought with needed to know that.

"'Ey Lio, go run to the field and see if anyone's there. And if they are ya can pummel their skulls in first before we get there," Alex said, nudging his younger brother. Lionel snorted. He had started getting into scuffles at the raw age of eight, but his brothers always got to fights and finished them before he could get there. It wasn't fun at all, so he began to run. He trained himself to run everywhere, every time, for two whole years, and by the time he was ten, he could easily beat his siblings to the fight. Running became a passion only Desmond had shared, but now that he had moved out with his wife, Lionel was left to himself.

Grabbing his bat, Lionel left without a word. He slipped on his running shoes outside the house and took in a deep breath of the frosty air of early autumn, before starting out at a jog towards the field, that gradually sped up into a run. Sprinting wasn't good for long distance for him, and he kept his usual pace that quickly got him to the field. As luck would have it, it was empty, so Lionel sat down to wait for his brothers to arrive.

They came shortly after, settling down into their places at the field. "Batter up!" Cody called from the pitcher's plate. 

They played for an hour or so, before deciding to take a break. They gathered together in a corner of the field, tossing their bats down in a pile of steel and wood. Being boys they didn't gossip, but seeing Lionel gaze off into blank space made them nudge him. "Thinkin' bout some chick, Lio?" Jake snorted, pushing against his arm. Lionel shot him a glare, rolling his eyes.

"Right, a chick. As if there are any hot chicks around our area," Lionel retorted, swiping hair from his face. For a while more they sat around, before Cody suddenly stood up, his crystal eyes fixed on a group of four teens, probably Caine's age or a little older.

"Grab your bats," Cody hissed, swiping his wooden bat off the dusty ground. He waited for his brothers to gather all their weapons before they, as a pack, approached the group of men. It was five against four, but the four of them were probably a lot tougher and armed than the five brothers. Lionel narrowed his eyes, fixing on something he thought he saw gleam in the dim sunlight. Upon the swing of the man's arm, Lionel's mind reeled as he registered what he was holding: A gun.

In all of the fights he had ever been in, he had never been up against a man with a gun.  _Shit,_ he thought, knowing he couldn't back out. In Boston, you couldn't do two things: Be gay and back out from a fight. Both made you a pussy, and being a pussy meant getting beaten up a lot more often. None of his brothers seemed to notice the gun, from the way they confidently walked towards the gang. 

Caine, being the eldest of the five there, went face to face with the leader of the gang. He was a fair bit taller than Caine, but that didn't make Caine step down. "Hey pretty boy," the gang leader snarled, the acrid smell of cigarette smoke snaking from his mouth. Caine narrowed his eyes, but made no comment in return. "You little brother here still owes our friend some cash, and he hasn't paid it back in two weeks now. We've been nice enough to give him an extension of a week," he hissed. The three other men were now maliciously grinning at Alex, who stared back at them with icy eyes.

"Why?" Caine hissed in return, "your mom gonna scold ya if ya lose your lunch money?" Lionel remained silent, his eyes flicking from one man to another. Caine was about to say something else when the guy holding the gun pulled it out and pointed it at Alex.

"I suggest you shut it before I pull the plug on yer little brother," the man drawled. He wasn't kidding, as Lionel could see his finger tightening on the trigger of the gun. Alex's eyes gave way to fear as he stared down the barrel of the pistol. At that range the pistol couldn't miss. The bullet contained could and would hit him in the face is the wielder wished so.

Jake stepped forward, pushing Alex back. "Listen here you little shits-"

_BANG!_

Lionel visibly flinched when the gun went off. His eyes widened in horror as Jake stared at him curiously, before blood leaked from his mouth. Jake's curious expression morphed into fear, and as he opened his mouth more blood bubbled up. Alex, standing behind him, caught him as he collapsed backward, screaming in horror. None of them cared as the four men ran off back into the alleyways, taking a car with them so they could get out of town as fast as possible.

"Call the goddamn ambulance!" Caine shouted. Lionel was so stunned he couldn't register what to do, till Caine snatched his phone from his hands and yanked him to his feet. He grabbed Lionel's two shoulder, shaking him. "Lio, run back and get ma, go!" He shoved him off, sending Lionel running in fear back to the house as he desperately called for help.

Lionel burst back into the house, his eyes wide with fear. "M-ma? Ma!" He yelled, unsure of where to go first to find their mother.

Jamie came out of the kitchen, looking worried. "Lionel? What happened?" she asked, going up to him.

"J-J-Jake... h-he.. JUST COME WITH ME!" Lionel shrieked, his voice cracking as he did so. He grabbed his mother's arm and pulled her along, leaving her halfway down the street when he realized she was slowing him down. He ran back to Jake, crouching by his brother. It was only them did Jamie realize something was absolutely wrong and run towards her sons.

Alex and Caine were already trying to staunch the blood, the phone still on speaker and on the line with the hospital. "Jake, Jake! Stay with us man!" Alex begged. Blood was still leaking from Jake's chest and pooling onto the ground, staining his grey shirt and the hands of his brothers. Jamie instantly screamed the moment she got a good look at her son, before snatching up the phone and yelling into it.

Every minute the ambulance wasn't there felt like eternity to Lionel as he sat uselessly by Jake.  _Please don't die, Jake, please!_ _  
_

When the ambulance finally arrived, Jamie took Caine with her to the hospital. "Go back home boys," she said, tears staining her face, "lock all the doors." Alex and Lionel were left standing there next to the bloodstain on the ground. Lionel stared at Alex for a moment, before sprinting away back home. He left the door open for Alex to come in, but ran straight up to the room he shared with Alex and wrapped himself under the sheets. He was so confused and scared. What if Jake didn't make it? Then what?

Alex came in shortly after, his eyes haunted, though the blood had been washed off his hands. "I locked the door," he said, sitting down by Lionel. "It'll be okay... it'll be okay..." he said. It sounded almost like a chant, the way he said it. Despite being seventeen, all Lionel wanted was to curl up and sleep, wash away all his problems.

He didn't even need to be told. He knew Jake was dead.

And he was going to get his revenge, no matter how many years it took.


	3. Poland, 1949: The end of a lonely warrior's war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Now that we've seen Scout and the tragic death of his brother, let's go even further back to 1949, to Poland where we'll meet our glorious Soldier, Dean.
> 
> Name: Dean Reeves  
> Location: Poland  
> Year: 1949

Blood stained the hands of a warrior, a man with all the gut and bravery of a warlord and the voice of a bear. Or an eagle. A screaming eagle. In fact, that was the exact thing the warrior was screaming as he ran at a pair of Polish men with a shotgun in his hand.

"SCREAMING EAGLES!" He howled, charging at them with a scowl on his face and the gun pointed at them. Mercilessly, he fired it twice, sniggering cruelly as the two men dropped. He nudged one of them over with his foot, grinning. "You maggots will  go to hell, and tell your goddamn leader I'm coming for him next, even if it takes me a million years!" He watched with amused eyes as the second man spat blood, only to have more bubble up.

Satisfied with himself, Dean dove into the bushes, pulling out a pair of binoculars to scope out the area first for anymore Nazis. He always made sure of who he was attacking, just in case it was an American. Never hurt to make sure. For a few hours all he did was scout around, checking people out, hiding in bushes and muttering curses at the supposedly-Germans quietly. He chanced upon a newspaper stand, and for a moment his eyes flicked to it.

 _1945 war ov- NO! Do not read that! It is propaganda attempting to brainwash you!_ He scolded himself, tearing his eyes away from the headlines. But the word 'war' had etched itself into his mind, and his eyes were already starting to inch towards the newspaper stand again.  _Goddammit eyes!_ He looked away again, but  _war_ kept chanting in his head now, urging him to look and read it.  _Dammit brain! You are not a true soldier!_ But his eyes were already speeding through the headlines before he could stop himself again.

 _1945 war over! Peace returns to the country!_ What? The war was over? Dean stood up, not sure what to feel at that point, and grabbed the nearest man. "You! What year is it?" He demanded. The man in his grasp looked a bit off put by Dean's attitude, but answered anyway. "It's 1949, Herr. Good day," he said, shaking himself free from the soldier's grasp and walking off.

1949... that meant he had been killing people for four years without even realising that the war had been over. No wonder he didn't see bloodstained streets with dying people holding their guts in. He just assumed that it was an untouched part of town. With the war over, there wasn't anything left for him to do there, and so within the next 48 hours, he was out of Poland and on his way back to America.

Upon returning to America, he returned to his friend's house, somehow smuggling his shotgun through. "Back from the war eh?" He friend asked, the man draped over the couch. Dean set down his things and pulled off his shirt, tossing it aside. "Y'know I ain't staying here for too long. Once I can, I'm outta here. This place sucks. You're gonna have to get a job, make your own living, Dean. Can't be living off me all the time." It was true, the house was run down as it is and Dean was pretty much living off his friend's money, even if he didn't use much.

"I know. At least you've been having the place to yourself while I was gone," he said. His friend's dog, a stray that took residence in the house, came back out of the room and sat down by Dean's feet, excited to see his friend back. "Good lad," Dean said, giving the dog a quick stroke. "I'm going to bathe. Disturb me and I will shoot your eyes out." His friend was used to the threats and simply nodded, not even looking at Dean as the soldier disappeared to the bathroom.

Three months and Dean's friend was completely ready to move out. 

"Guess you're leaving them?" Dean asked, still unsure of where to go. All the time he had been bugged to go job-hunting but instead Dean always put it off.  _"Jobs will come to me,"_ he said. Right. 

"Yeah. I'm heading out of America and heading over to Australia. Sorry brother, you're gonna have to survive on your own. Dog'll be here for ya," he said, stroking the stray mutt that had come out to bid his friend goodbye. He looked particularly upset, and Dean picked the dog up to let him lick his friend. "Be good. Both of ya. Don't let me visit back and find ya dead," he said. The taxi by the curb honked loudly, and his friend gave Dean a manly hug before shoving his things into the cab and getting in. Dean didn't leave the curb till it was gone from sight, and even after that he sat back down on the pavement with the mutt.

"Well lad," he sighed, unsure of where to go or what to do, "guess it's just you and me. Let's go find a job."


End file.
